


Enochian Lovemaking

by posingasme



Series: Before 200... [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Angel Sex, Bottom Sam, Castiel in the Bunker, Enochian, Explicit Consent, First Time, Friendship/Love, Gentle Sex, Grace Kink, Grace Sex, M/M, Making Love, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spells & Enchantments, Top Castiel, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 06:46:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3280679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel left something turned on back in the other part of the bunker. He returns to fan the flame.<br/>Gentle, but intense first time lovemaking scene, with a little bit of Enochian magic thrown in for good measure.<br/>(Timestamp set after chapter 6 of Wingman, but can be enjoyed out of context.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enochian Lovemaking

When Castiel entered the room again, it was with a new sense of determination and purpose. He could feel his heart racing, an odd thing no matter how much time he spent in a vessel, to feel his flesh reacting to his desire.

Sam was trembling very slightly, so slightly that he was unlikely even aware of it himself. But Castiel could feel it before crossing the space between them. Sam's need was like a tangible thing. Castiel felt as though he were wading through a wave of it as he approached his human. The closer he got to the source, the more dire the craving. The hunter's eyes were dark and blown wide with want as he stared in silence.

Sam would not ask, no matter how badly he ached.

Castiel watched his human with unbridled curiosity as he slowly unbuttoned his clothing and slipped it aside. He heard the small intake of breath from Sam's lips escape a moment later as a whimper. Castiel assumed that the noises coming from Sam's throat were expressing appreciation for the vessel as well as encouragement, but he wanted to be certain.

"Sam, may I touch you? I don't feel hurried tonight. I don't feel as though there is a panic between us this time. Am I correct?"

Sam nodded quickly. "No, Cas. Not this time."

"I don't know how long is an appropriate time to wait before lovers are meant to join, but perhaps we have crossed over to where we both feel safe? You no longer feel that sexual relations would be an end result of our friendship, but could instead simply be an addition to it?"

The smile on Sam's face was beautiful. "Yes, Cas. I understand now. I don't feel like we are reaching a goal, just that we are moving into another stage."

Castiel nodded soberly. "I'm glad, Sam. I don't want to allow this if it means you will feel as if we are...finished after."

"No, Angel. I promise I won't be finished with you. Please, Cas. I've never wanted...I've never wanted anything like I want this."

The angel gave him a kind smile, then closed his eyes to breathe in Sam's chemical reactions. There was power there, and hunger, anxiety and excitement, desire and need. He felt himself moving slowly onto the bed now, crawling like an animal on top of his human. There was a thin sheet between their bodies, and it provided a barrier which pleased a mischievous part of Castiel's mind. He brushed his body over an already over-stimulated man, felt him arch his hips into him, and cry out hoarsely. It was nearly a whine coming from parted lips, and Castiel found it made his own body resonate with pleasure.

He held himself inches above the hunter, with his knees on either side of one leg, and one hand bracing him next to his strong chest. The other hand reached up to claw gently through the man's hair. Sam sighed vocally again, turning to give Castiel access to continue caressing his scalp and down the soft hair to his neck. For the moment, Sam did not move, simply watched Castiel and reacted to his touch.

When the angel's thumb slid down his throat to his collarbone, his chest filled with a desperate breath, and he let loose a needy cry, which even a celestial could not misunderstand.

Castiel smiled, and lowered his body to Sam's, still separated by the thin fabric, and he could feel the man's heat and hardness, could feel the urgency building. He knew that Sam was trying not to rush him, trying to prove that he agreed that they could afford to move slowly, and some strange part of Castiel took pleasure in knowing the effort was stretching Sam to his limits. He wondered briefly if that was a fault, to want to make Sam wait, not because of Dean's warnings, but because it somehow increased his own pleasure to see the building need in the powerful man's eyes.

But then Sam let out another moan, and Castiel found that he did not care anymore. There was nothing more exciting than Sam's need, and he would fulfill it beyond anything the man had ever experienced, but for right now, he was going to enjoy the pleading gaze and restless muscles below him. He was the broken angel, and in this moment as in all others, he would decide what was right and what was fault.

The man beneath him began to whimper his nickname, and he smiled, but shook his head. "Shh. No, Sam. It needs to be Castiel. Do you understand? For this, it needs to be Castiel."

There was a fleeting frown of confusion, but then Castiel gently pushed forward the knee between his legs, and the frown was replaced with a deep gasp through teeth. "Castiel," he breathed desperately.

The angel's eyes flashed with a spark of Grace. There was a practical reason for his request, certainly, but he had not realized just how the sound of his given name from Sam's needy lips would crash over him, burn through him. He took one more long look at the man, then tore the sheet from between them with a thought. As their skin made direct contact, Sam cried out his name again, and Castiel's restraint threatened to leave him. He lowered his lips to Sam's throat, mouthing and biting at both the flesh and the Enochian syllables, flicking his tongue as if he would taste the sweat and the magic together.

"My name," he reminded Sam in a breath, and he was rewarded with a feral cry of "Castiel!" which echoed all around them in this bare room.

The magic was swirling not just around but into Sam. Castiel licked his lover's lips, and lowered his hand down to brush Sam's member, reveling in the grateful way the man's hands clutched at his hips, as if to prevent the connection breaking, to hold Castiel in place where he belonged.

The Enochian would allow a vibrant wave of pleasure to flow through his human for the entirety of their embrace, but it also worked to fortify Sam against the very real danger of Castiel's own loss of control over his Grace. The angel knew what unbridled Grace could do to a human, and the warm writhing magic streaming through Sam's body would protect him from it. Whether consciously or not, Sam seemed to have learned immediately that the triggering syllables for the pleasurable effect of the magic was Castiel's own name. Every time he murmured or shouted it, it sent a new course of warm, stinging ecstasy through his whole body. The angel allowed Sam to recover from each swell of power, all the while touching and stroking and feeling the hunter's body with adoration. It was Castiel's magic, but Sam had learned that it was up to him to trigger it as often as his body could stand it.

For Castiel, there was a much baser pleasure in hearing his name, a wild, instinctive triumph at having his human chanting the name of that which claimed him, the name of that to which he gave himself. Such a strong, beautiful, dangerous man, one who had bested the two strongest angels there had ever been, was yet falling apart under the ministrations of the most broken and lowest of angels, Castiel the Fallen.

Sam's hands were pulling him by his hips, and even someone with as little experience in love as Castiel knew what his body was asking for. He looked into his lover's eyes. "Sam? Tell me what you want from me. I don't want to misunderstand."

The man licked his lips hungrily. "Castiel-"

The angel waited as another wave passed through at the sound of his name, stroking him through it and feeling sticky warmth dripping through his fingers, like a promise of the angel's future reward.

Sam took several tiny breaths, then began again. "Cas, please. I never...but I want you in me. I never thought...Please, Cas."

"Shh, Sam." His hand continued its work with slow rhythmic motions, but he reached forward to kiss the man's lips delicately. "Whatever you want. You are beautiful, Sam. I want you to know how beautiful you are. Everything about you feels right."

A whimper was his only response, as the hazel eyes closed.

He sat back on his knees then. "Do you want to turn? Or would you rather face me?"

"I don't know. No, let me turn."

Castiel released him momentarily, and watched the man roll onto his stomach. The blue eyes shone with desire as he let them drift over Sam's back, his long legs, so strong and yet trembling.

For the first time, Castiel reached down to touch himself, felt the hardness, the readiness. He put a knee on either side of Sam's long body, and lifted him gently with ease. He whispered some quick words in his native tongue, since he was more than aware what Sam had meant by the choppy admission of "I never..." The Enochian would ensure that pain was not a factor in what Castiel did for his human. He ran his thumb over his own slick, and polished himself with it, thrilling with anticipation of Sam's warmth.

"Are you all right?" he breathed in a strained, gruff voice that revealed his urgency.

"Yes. Yeah, Cas. Please."

With one hand holding Sam's hip and the other guiding himself, he pressed against Sam's opening until the layers of muscle gave, and he dropped his mouth open into a shameless, wordless groan. The way Sam's body clung to him, squeezed him, was nearly too much. Castiel's eyes rolled back, and he simply held himself still for a moment, collecting himself.

Then Sam was pushing back against him, his body slowly swallowing up every part of him with just two back and forth juts of his hips. It was the human's turn to groan, and when he did, it was a prayer, Castiel's name as he had never heard it before. This time, when the wave of magic pumped through Sam, its flow continued right into Castiel's body. It was unexpected, and it nearly made him collapse against the large man beneath him. He recovered himself with great effort, and began to slide in and out of Sam with steady strokes.

His hand reached under Sam, and found the dripping, throbbing part of him he wanted. Sam whined at the touch, and slammed back against Castiel involuntarily, until the angel was flush against the man, enveloped wholly inside. Together, they vocalized, and Castiel found himself reminding Sam in a wrecked voice to say his name.

It was only minutes before the Enochian protection allowed for the build to crash over them. Sam was panting, nearly hiccoughing with the intensity of it, babbling to his angel incoherently. It was a delirious cycle of whispering the angel's name, followed by screaming it, slamming back against the body behind him and pushing into the hand that held him.

Castiel whispered with his lips against the man's hot skin, about how deeply he loved him, how beautiful he was, how strong and how good, how grateful he was to touch him, how Sam's body was more than Heaven had ever been.

The man's head was turned back to him, and he could see the hazel eyes alternate between flickering at random and squeezing shut. Then Sam spoke again, and the angel's heart swelled to bursting.

"Your wings. Castiel, your wings."

He smiled. The jet black wings had been floating out behind him in the darkness, assisting with balance and thrilling with the pleasure rippling through them both. But at Sam's request, they curled to cradle them. It was not an effortless motion for Castiel. His wings were only truly meant for that stretch when he needed to slow his flight or to propel him backward during combat above ground.

But he could feel Sam responding to the brush of feathers on either side of his arms and legs, stomach and chest, by releasing a throbbing, sticky stream between the angel's long fingers. His body shuddered and tightened mercilessly around Castiel, who could not help slamming himself in as deep as possible, as his own climax stiffened his back and pumped through him into Sam. They fell as one body onto the bed. He held tightly to Sam's hips, holding himself inside for several seconds until he could breathe again.

When at last he reluctantly slipped from Sam's warmth, he did so with a sigh of utter contentment. "Sam," he whispered. "Are you all right?"

For a moment, his human did not respond. The silence lasted just long enough for Castiel to panic, fearful that his spell work had not properly protected the mortal. Then he saw Sam smile.

"Angel?"

He sighed again, this time with relief. "Yes, Sam."

"I love you."

Castiel knew his own smile would be there to stay for quite a while. "I love you, Sam." He lifted himself with effort, and left for the bathroom. By the time he got there, his Grace had done its job cleaning his own body entirely. He acquired two hand towels, and soaked one in warm water, then padded back to Sam.

In gentle, reverent worship, he ran the wet cloth over Sam's body, careful to not irritate any place which he suspected might be too sensitive. Then he patted him dry with the other towel, and helped him into his boxers and tee shirt. Sam allowed all of this without comment or resistance, simply watched his angel work with awe.

Finally, he deposited the towels among Sam's dirty laundry, and kissed him tenderly on the lips. "Sleep, my love," he said. "I'll watch over you and your brother."

"You aren't going to stay?"

He smiled to himself. "If you need me to. But otherwise, I think I'd like to let you stretch comfortably and perhaps do some thinking on my own. Do you mind that?"

Sam was looking up at him with unchecked adoration on his face. "No. Not at all. Thank you, Castiel."

Now that their bodies had separated, the word did not trigger intensity, but simply seemed to make the man relax all over. The angel stroked his hair fondly. "Sleep, Sam. Pray if you need me."

Sam was asleep even before the door had closed behind his angel.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love. 
> 
> It's a true story.


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